


A Time for Sleep

by temperamental_mistress



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, No Dialogue, logic and philosophy week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 12:49:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8372872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/temperamental_mistress/pseuds/temperamental_mistress
Summary: Enjolras knew he was the last person who could make arguments about the necessity of sleep, especially to Combeferre.





	

"There is a time for many words, and there is a time for sleep."

— Homer, _The Odyssey  
_

* * *

 

Enjolras knew he was the last person who could make arguments about the necessity of sleep, especially to Combeferre. Though the medical student would go to great lengths to ensure that Enjolras remembered to take meals and find even a few hours’ rest each day, he refused to acknowledge the hypocrisy of his own habits. Any concern for his well-being was brushed aside with an easy excuse and a wave of his hand, heedless of the darkening shadows beneath his eyes.  
  
When words failed to inspire a change in behavior, Enjolras began to consider other options. A refusal to sleep until Combeferre did was likely only to result in a stern reprimand. To ply him with drink was useless, for Combeferre held his liquor well, and would see the intention immediately. He briefly courted the idea of asking Combeferre to accompany him on a long walk until exhaustion forced them to stop, but it was impossible to justify the time. Combeferre was nearly drowning in his ever-intensifying course of study, and the added tasks of their political work only served to steal every remaining moment of his days.  
  
Eager though he was to see the other man rest, Enjolras put aside his plots and plans as they read together over the course of a long afternoon. When alone, Enjolras preferred the strict solitude of his desk. It deprived him of distractions, providing him with the perfect environment to work for extended periods of time uninterrupted. Combeferre, however, insisted that this arrangement was unsuitable, particularly if they were to share each other’s company while working. The bed was repurposed as an overlarge sofa, allowing them both to make the best use of the light from the nearby window.  
  
So it was that Enjolras found himself carding his fingers through Combeferre’s hair, while the other man snored quietly in his lap. At first, he had not noticed the change. Each engrossed in their own reading, neither had spoken a word for quite some time. More than accustomed to Combeferre’s sprawled reading posture, Enjolras had positioned himself as a willing pillow. His hand moved of its own accord, threading through the soft locks of hair as easily as a conversation. It was only when the book tipped forward onto Combeferre’s chest that Enjolras realized the result of his simple gesture. He paused only to remove the eyeglasses from his friend’s face, setting them out of harm’s way.  
  
As Enjolras resumed his earlier motion, Combeferre stirred. The man’s eyelids fluttered for a moment, and his unfocused gaze sought the source of the touch. Whatever blurred image he could make out was enough to reassure him, for he let out a contented sigh and settled himself more comfortably. He was asleep again in moments.  
  
Enjolras smiled. To see his dearest friend at peace brought him more rest than sleep ever could. Heavy though his eyelids might be, he felt as though warmth and light had returned to his exhausted soul. Still, he set his book down and allowed himself to doze. The world could wait.


End file.
